


88 Minutes

by chai_and_coffee



Series: 365 Days [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adam's not in this one but will be later in the series, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Angst, Arranged Marriage AU, Depression, Drinking, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/M, How do i tag without giving shit away?, M/M, Night Terrors, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stalking, Suicidal Thoughts, fluff?, klance is no longer background, klance starts at chapter 15 and continues throughout the series, part one of a series, shallura - Freeform, shiroxallura, slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-06 13:40:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 20,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15195968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chai_and_coffee/pseuds/chai_and_coffee
Summary: Takashi Shirogane had always had high hopes for marriage. Smiles, marrying the one he loved. Suffice it to say, none of his expectations came true. In a strange stroke of fate, he finds himself marrying Allura Altea, a beautiful woman who hates him as much as he hates her.Shiro was a simple man, served his time for his country and was paying the price for it through his nightmares and marriage. His wife, however, might have secrets and monsters bigger than any night terror.Everything changes in 88 minutes.Game on.~Arranged Marriage AU... with a little spin. ;) Will be updated regularly as possible!





	1. Marriage Bells

Whoever spouted that crap about marriage being the best thing ever deserved a punch. Not a light punch, a mean, heavy undercut hook to their face. That was a load of BS, and Shiro knew it. 

 

Save it, hopeless romantics. Shiro knew from experience. 

 

After all, he was the one in the suit, waiting at the altar. His hands were sweating for a woman he didn’t even know. 

 

A stranger. He was getting married to a stranger, and there was nothing he could do. As he waited, his mind ran wild. He wondered if she would leave him at the altar. Inwardly, he hoped so. He would have to deal with the humiliation and the pity coming from the guests at the wedding, but that would be fine. They were all strangers to him, he didn’t know a single one. Just like his bride. 

 

He could go home, get himself a nice drink, and go to sleep. The next day, he would wake up, and never remember this at all. He could go back to the boring confines of his work (and as much as he grumbled about it, he really did appreciate the fact that it gave him something to do) and continue living his life.

 

But if she did show up, he would have to let her move in with him, he’d have a second person under his roof. That meant his space being violated constantly. He couldn’t elaborate, because he simply knew nothing about the woman he was marrying. Nothing at all. He didn’t know how she looked, or if she was kind or rude or annoying. 

 

God, he hoped that she wouldn’t show up. He sent a silent request to whoever was holding the cards of fate to let him be lucky for once in his life. Of course, the slight movement of his prosthetic fingers made him realize that luck was never on his side. 

 

And as luck would have it, the little girl holding the basket of flowers danced in, delicately spreading the flowery petals onto the aisle. 

 

The wedding was small and simple. There were no bridesmaids or groomsmen, the wedding guests totaled an amount of 20 people, and Shiro’s suit was a rental. Small and simple seemed too nice of words to describe it, rushed and underwhelming was more like it. 

 

The guests murmured as the bride began to walk down the aisle, accompanied on her father’s arm. Shiro met the eyes of his future wife for the first time. She wasn’t ugly. She wasn’t pretty. To him, she was another face that he would forget with a solid drink. That was no offense to her attractiveness or anything, but he simply didn’t see her. She gracefully floated towards him, walking on the arm of his commanding officer, Alfor, who looked at Shiro like he was the best thing ever.

 

Oh, that man owed him one. 

 

A soft hand being placed in his jolted him out of his thoughts and he blinked, realizing that the woman’s hand was now in his, and the minister was now saying something. The same old commonplace things that was said in weddings. He looked at her, and wasn’t surprised to see that her gaze was averted. She didn’t look up at all. He was grateful that she didn’t wear a veil, that would be one more action for him to complete. 

 

He should have felt sympathy for her, he knew that her special day was probably being stolen and all the other crap that girls say in those novels, but really, he couldn’t care less. He didn’t love her. He had no feeling towards her. This entire thing was a favor, and she shouldn’t expect anything out of it. 

 

He took a quick moment to study her as the minister droned on, addressing their supposed love. Her white hair was pinned up, a few strands framing her face. She looked softer. She didn’t wear much makeup, he noticed, not like the other women who had their faces caked beyond belief. Her eyes were a blue color, but he couldn’t see much more. Her features were delicate, almost elfin, and small. She herself, was a petite figure, smaller than him. He easily towered over her. 

 

But, she wasn’t one to be taken lightly. He noted that her arms revealed the slightest bit of build. So she wasn’t completely truthful to the way she appeared. His eyes floated to her dress, now just taking in boring bits of detail to pass the time. 

 

Her dress was the standard white, lacy and soft, billowing around her. Still a bit modest, nothing too revealing. None of those fancy gowns that other brides wore, something simple, nothing major.

 

She looked like one of those girls that would wear something fancy, and he realized that she must have downgraded to a dress like this because of the short notice.

 

He had to be impressed. Alfor had organized this wedding in less than a week. Shiro didn’t really care about the fact that there was an increased absence of flowers or family members. 

 

Oh. The minister was speaking to them. Shiro repeated the vows, his voice quiet and low. No feeling, no love. Alfor didn’t ask for a show or for him to play pretend, so this was all he would do. Allura repeated it after him, her voice quieter and softer. She never met his eyes once.

 

“I do.” He rumbled, when the time came.

 

“I do.” She said, her voice an airy whisper. 

 

There was no kiss. He wouldn’t exchange a kiss with someone he didn’t even know, not even for the sake of a crowd. As he mulled over that statement, he snickered internally. Sure, he wouldn’t kiss a stranger, but he’d get married to a stranger. Good going, Shiro.

 

The couple exchanged rings, the silver wedding ring biting his finger, the stone sparkling from hers. And with that, Shiro grabbed his wife’s hand and ran out of the chapel, aware that he had just fucked up his entire life. 


	2. Favors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reasoning behind their marriage

He heard the woman scuffling around in his bathroom. Allura, her name was. He had asked her where she wanted to sleep, if she was okay with sharing the bed with him, and the only response she had given was a scathing look. 

 

Guess she didn’t want to share the bed. Well, that was okay with him. This was his house, he was taking the bed. She could take the couch or whatever made her happy. 

 

She finally stepped out, wearing a t-shirt, spelling out something in some other language. She hadn’t said a word since they had come to the house. Battlefield glances were exchanged as she made her way to the living room and he made his way to his bedroom.

 

He wasn’t exactly all that heartless, though, because he had had the foresight to set some blankets on the couch if she wanted to sleep there, had given her a pillow, and had already converted it into a pull-out couch. So, he wasn’t getting any awards for best husband ever, but he certainly wasn’t the worst husband either.

 

He curled up under the blankets and stared up at the ceiling, barely illuminated by the way moonlight filtered into the room. He saw the light go out in the living room, leaving the entire house dark, and assumed that she was tucking in for the night as well. 

 

Soft sobs reached his ears, and they were feminine and quiet. She cried, but he appreciated the fact that she could keep it down. 

 

He wondered how they had gotten into this mess. Oh, wait, he knew. 

 

_Takashi was a solider—but one of the elites. He had risen up the ranks, all the way from a basic foot solider to a pilot, one of the best fighter pilots in the entire fleet. He was like any of the other young men that joined the military, fresh, holding promise, determined. Shiro was focused and loyal, and had earned respect from both his comrades and the higher ups._

 

_It was a great honor to be a fighter pilot, one that Shiro took very seriously. He made sure to pay attention when the instructors taught him, made sure to look his best, to be his best. There were only seven others in his division, and the group of men had grown very close, like brothers. Of course, there was a commanding officer, Alfor Altea, who had everyone’s respect. Alfor was strong and was yet to make a mistake in his military tactics. The men of Shiro’s division, including himself, respected the older man immensely._

 

_Alfor had taken special notice of Shiro, and Shiro had soaked it up. It wasn’t everyday that a higher positioned officer took notice of your talents. Alfor became more of a mentor than a commanding officer, and as time passed, the two men had a stronger bond._

 

_Shiro told the man about his dreams, about what he planned to do with his life once he had served his time, and Alfor had been a committed listener. He was also great for advice. Despite Shiro spilling everything about his life, Alfor remained tightlipped. The only thing that Shiro ever knew about his mentor figure’s personal life was the fact that he had a daughter, one just a few years younger than Shiro._

 

_Time had passed, and months had stretched into years. Nearing the end of his five year requirement, Shiro had experienced malfunctions in his fighter jet, ones that the enemy exploited. He crashed, in enemy lands, and from there, it became a little bit fuzzy. He remembered screaming, but could never focus truly on what had happened during the time. In all honesty, he wasn’t really sure he ever wanted to know._

 

_When he woke up, three months after his accident, Shiro had noted the prosthetic of where his arm used to be. He had felt too deadened to really pay attention to the loss, a loss that would come back to haunt him later._

 

_All he could focus on was Alfor’s face, sliding in and out of view._

 

_“Shiro! Shiro! I need a favor.” It had been clear by the strain in Alfor’s voice that something was terribly wrong, and Shiro had made an attempt to truly fight against the painkillers clouding his mind to listen to his Commanding Officer._

 

_“My daughter. I need you to protect her. I need you to protect her—to have her hand in marriage, son.” Alfor was close to pleading, and somewhere, a distant thought had recognized his sense of urgency._

 

_“Marriage? I don’t know her..” Shiro had mumbled, and had been struck when Alfor gripped his shoulders and shook him to get his attention._

 

_“Please, son. Please. Do it as a favor. Do it as a favor to me.” Between the pain killers, the pains of his arm, and Alfor pleading, Shiro had had no option but to say yes to the insistent man. He had all but forgotten about it until he had been honorably discharged from the military, and had gone home._

 

_It had been less than two days since he settled in, when he got the news that the wedding was in a week._

 

Shiro blinked, fazing him out of the reverie induced by the memory, and it seemed that his wife was still sobbing. He wondered slightly, with a twinge of annoyance, if she was going to do that all night long. He didn’t quite know. But then again, he didn’t know anything about her.

 

Shiro sighed heavily, looking down at the wedding band adorning his left hand, glinting back at him in a malicious way. Even the ring was evil, or he really needed sleep.

 

Shiro listened to the quiet crying for a few minutes, counting the seconds tick by before detaching his prosthetic and setting it on his nightstand. With that burden cleared, he grabbed a pillow and pressed it to ears in the hopes of muffling any more of Mrs.Shirogane’s sobs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment on what you thought! Reviews are super helpful to me! Things are going to slowly unfold and pick up speed, I promise. 
> 
> Also, if you enjoyed, leave a kudos!
> 
> Catch me on tumblr! @chai-and-coffee


	3. Domestic Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Shiro adjusts with Allura
> 
> WARNING: thoughts of suicide

Within the next day, they had fallen into a system. They hadn’t worked together, no, but they were excellent in evading each other.

 

Shiro began to feel less threatened under his own roof, and most of the time, forgot that his wife was even there. To her credit, he didn’t bother her or anything like he expected her to, and that was pleasant. Luckily for him, he went off to work for most of the day, and she stayed at home. The first night after the night they had gotten married, Shiro had come home to a clean home, and on top of that, an exhausted wife. His tiny apartment looked immaculate, but he noticed that she hadn’t gone into his bedroom. Allura, on the other hand, was dozing on the couch, the rise and fall of her breath indicating that the young woman was in a very deep sleep.

 

They ate dinner together, but not conventionally. Sure, they shared the same table, but it was the farthest ends. Allura ate something that she herself cooked, while he ate takeout from that Chinese place down the street. They didn’t talk, and it was a rush to finish off their food so that they no longer had to entertain one another’s presence.

 

It definitely wasn’t domestic life, but it wasn’t exactly the yelling and the drama that Shiro had been expecting.

 

Of course, they weren’t all sunshine and rainbows either. The house was silent, with the glares from the married couple punctuating it. And he was a dick too. He purposefully tucked 20 dollars under her pillow when she was sleeping for her ‘trouble of cleaning the house’, implying that she was a maid rather than an occupant of this house. 

 

That had gotten him a frosty glare in return, but he felt a strange sense of satisfaction to find that the money was gone the next day, and his pantry stocked. 

 

Allura had a strange aversion to going out, but he figured that he pressured her into a position where she had to go out to get groceries and shit like that. When she went out, however, she was always covered from head to toe, and he wouldn’t even know that it was her if he ran into her on the street. 

 

This was a marriage, not out of love or anything of the sort, but for convenience. So, Shiro had no problem bringing women that he met in bars home, just for a night. If Allura was uncomfortable, she never raised it up, so he continued his behavior anyways.

 

A more decent side of him reckoned that he was being an asshole who used women for his own pleasure, but he couldn’t be fazed by that realization. Those women knew that he only used them to help him to sleep, and they were always gone by the time he opened his eyes in the morning. 

 

His nightmares were becoming a problem, though. He had the tendency to wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in a cold sweat, the sounds of screams and yells fading away from the remnants of his dream. His dreams were especially vivid and they tormented him. As the threats grew, the number of women he brought home increased from once a while to every night.

 

After a week or so, however, Shiro had begun to feel odd, feel as though there was a black film covering his body, a thick, oily substance that he couldn’t manage to take off, despite how many showers he took. He felt _dirty_. 

 

His face was gaunt, and the eyes that stared back at him in the mirror were condescending and reproachful, full of hatred for what kind of man he had turned into. 

 

His scar that stretched over the bridge of his nose prickled uncomfortably, and Shiro noted that his razor was within reached. He had a sudden vision of him reaching for it, pushing the blade up and slashing crimson lines so deep that the feeling would finally go away.

 

His hand twitched towards the blade, but the shuffling he heard from outside his door made him jolt back and reconsider. Not today. He bent over the sink and washed his face over and over before leaving the bathroom.

 

Aside from that, he tried to keep busy and not pay attention to his other occupant. Allura moped around a lot, and he hated it. He hated to see her scuffle around his house, her head ducked. He hated the fact that she had the nerve to lift her head and fix him with a scathing look as he passed her. He hated the fact that her gloomy mood seemed to permeate throughout the apartment, and hated it even more when he realized that the mood seemed to stay with him even when he wasn’t even near her. 

 

He hated her, to put it simply. She did little to nothing, except for going out to restock his pantry, and cooking for herself. She lived on the couch, having a few possessions and clothes. Everything remained in her bag at all times, almost as though she was preparing for a quick exit. He could care less. If she wanted leave, that would be completely fine. He didn’t care, and her father could jump off a cliff if he had any issues with his daughter leaving him. 

 

There would be a divorce soon, right? There’d better be one. He wasn’t going to live with her for longer than he had to. She usually sat in the corner of his couch, her eyes vacant and glassy if she was remembering something. She would stay like that for hours, and it wasn’t an unusual sight for Shiro to go out to work and come back late at night to see that her position had remained virtually unchanged.

 

He didn’t give a damn about her, and went on in his business.

 

But somewhere inside him, where there was a logical, rational, maybe even compassionate man, he knew that something was wrong with his wife. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be honest, this fic is going to be super dark. Shiro isn't the lovable character that we all know in this one, and the way he treats Allura isn't going to be the best, even if he doesn't abuse her. 
> 
> Please understand that I in no way encourage this behavior. That being said, I do believe in happy endings! Things will get better...eventually. The action will start to pick up in Chapter Six, so stick around!
> 
> Leave a review and let me know what you thought! Kudos are welcome!
> 
> And as always, catch me on tumblr: @chai-and-coffee


	4. Precinct

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little filler chapter, Shiro's work!

During the day, he didn’t have to stay home with her. During the day, his work called for his attention, and that was perfectly fine with him. 

 

Shiro worked as a police officer (and he suspected that Alfor had something to do with the fact that Shiro had gotten hired on the spot) and he felt a sense of pride as he fixed his uniform up everyday that he was still serving his country.

 

Of course, police life was different than army life, but it was no surprise that Shiro was doing well in his new life. He liked the conformity, the strict rules. Right now, Shiro was Assistant Commissioner of the station, but if he continued down his path, he could be District Commissioner in no time. 

 

People liked him, in the short time that he had started working in the station, for his quiet demeanor and how he enforced the law fairly. Of course, he wasn’t doing the grunt work that the others were awarded. No, he was given the cases, the ones with distraught families and missing kids. 

 

Of course, he had been home a week. He should have been at the bottom of the totem pole, but somehow, within the first day on the job, he had gotten the AC position. He wasn’t complaining.

 

There was something simplistic about his job. Black and white. Never colorful, never messy. There was a sense of justice, of wrong and right, well with the cases that he dealt with.

 

As Shiro made his way into work, he was greeted with Cheshire cat grins and pats on the back.

 

“How was your first night with the wife, Shirogane?” An officer asked, sitting on the edge of Shiro’s desk.

 

“Bet it was amazing. Look, he’s quieter than usual. She must have surprised him.” Another officer chimed in, winking from where he sat at his desk.

 

Shiro rolled his eyes and sank down in his chair at the head of the room.“We didn’t fuck.” He said, folding his hands behind his head, his shoes kicking up to rest on his desk. 

 

“Why not, boss?” The first officer asked curiously, tilting his head.

 

“Because we hate each other.” Came the simple reply. Almost instantly, all the pairs of eyes in the station turned to him, and a group of sympathetic police officers crowded around his desk in a semi circle. 

 

The question was prevalent in almost every officer’s eyes, and Shiro groaned inwardly. He should have known that it would have sparked every officer’s curiosity. He should have kept his mouth shut.

 

“It’s an arranged marriage. We don’t like each other. I could care less about what she thinks.” He snorted, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair just slightly a bit more.

 

A female officer, Piper, spoke up. “That may be so, sir. But let me ask you this. Did you iron your uniform this morning?”

 

Where was she going with this?“No, I didn’t.”

 

“And you didn’t iron it last night?”

“No, I didn’t.”

 

“Yet, you’re still wearing the same uniform that your wife ironed.” Piper said smugly, crossing her arms in a way that made him think of a smug bird that had just caught a worm.

 

He shifted in his chair, then groaned, his hand smacking his forehead.

 

She was right. He didn’t iron his uniform, yet when he awoke, it was neatly pressed and folded for him. He should have known.

 

“And wait, it gets better! He smells slightly like strawberries. Tell me, what perfume does your wife wear?” Piper asked, enjoying the attention she was getting from the tittering crowd.

 

Shiro didn’t even look up from where his face was buried in his hands. “Strawberry scented.”

 

“And you still think that she doesn’t like you?” Piper pressed, waiting for an answer.

 

Shiro looked up and shook his head. “She may like me and whatever, but I don’t like her. I don’t like how I was forced into this, how she rarely does anything but cry—or anything really. I just hate this. I hate everything to do with that stupid marriage, and I can’t wait to get divorced.” He bit out, crossing his arms.

 

“Well, if I was your wife, I’d cry endlessly about having to be married to a grumpy police officer too. I bet you didn’t even thank her for her work or anything.” Piper shot back, but another officer placed a hand on her shoulder, signaling her to reign it in.

 

“Well, don’t worry Shiro. I’m sure that everything will work out. Everything will, I’m sure of it. You just have to be patient for a while. Whether it’s a divorce or a happy marriage, the two of you will figure something out. After all, the fact that you have yet to remove your wedding band tells me a lot.” The officer winked.

 

Shiro huffed. “Get to work, the lot of you.” He said, threatening them playfully. He really didn’t mind the nosiness of the officers in his unit, it reminded him of how tight he and his troop used to be in the army. Like close siblings, all working for one common goal, all good people. That’s the way the precinct was, and he was grateful for the tight-knit nature that they provided.

 

Shiro glanced down at the paperwork littering his desk, but wasn’t inclined to pick anything up. He sighed, pondering his friends’ words, gently rocking back and forth in his chair as he tapped a pen against his lips. 

 

Was he really that bad? She had taken the liberty to iron his uniform, but instead of saying thanks, he just wanted to tell her off, that she shouldn’t touch any of his things again.

 

He found it hard to be the least bit sympathetic to her situation. In his mind, he had warped her as the object of all his suffering and misery, and that’s why he frankly didn’t give a damn when he saw her morose state in the morning.

 

His attention was called for with arrival of a new case, and all thoughts of his wife slipped out of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will be picking up. I promise, promise. Two more chapters to go!
> 
> Leave a review on how you felt or what you thoughts! Kudos are welcome!
> 
> As always, catch me on tumblr @chai-and-coffee


	5. Drunken Stupors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a night out, drinking. I wanted to get this out before chapter six, aha.

He came home dead drunk. 

 

Did he mean to? Not really. But here he was. 

 

He blamed his collegues. Apparently they had taken his ranting about his marriage to heart, and wanted to take him out to drinks to ease his aching heart.

 

“Guys. You don’t have to do this.” He said uncomfortably, shaking his head as he was forcibly sat down at the bar counter.

 

“Yeah we do! Our boss isn’t happy. Maybe have a few, Shiro, then take someone home.” A loud voice yelled in his ear, and had it not been for the fact that Shiro’s hearing was already somewhat impaired, he would have flinched away.

 

“Actually, don’t take someone home. Go to someone else’s. I’m sure your wife won’t be too happy if you bring home a fuck buddy.” Piper yelled in his other ear.

 

“I’ve already brought several women home when she’s been home!” He yelled back, wincing slightly at the way his voice grew louder.

 

It wasn’t their fault that they were yelling, but the bar was so loud that there was no way to hear anyone if they didn’t yell. Out of all the nights, it was a karaoke night, and the music was blasting so loudly that Shiro could feel his body shaking with the beats of the bass. The music was something new, something pop, because everyone was singing along. Shiro recognized the beat, the melody, but couldn’t remember the words. A shot glass of liquid was placed in front of him, and judging by the jostling around him, they wanted him to drink it. 

 

He never objected to a drink. He wrapped his hands around the little glass and brought it to his mouth, pausing for a second before opening his mouth and tilting the contents in.

 

He coughed slightly, the burn of alcohol coursing its way through his throat. Cheers erupted around him, and a second drink of the same was ordered. What was it? Tequila? Vodka? Whatever it was, it was straight alcohol, mixed with nothing to tamper it down.He didn’t mind it, didn’t mind the burn at all. It was a welcome distraction from the wailing—or was that singing—coming in the direction of the karaoke machine, and focused his thoughts on something better.

 

The second drink arrived, and Shiro downed it this time with no hesitation and less difficulty. As soon as it was choked down, he gestured for another one, fixing the bartender with a glare when the man looked like he was going to argue.

 

However, the bartender seemed pleased that Shiro relinquished his keys over to Piper, who was their designated driver for the night. Shiro wasn’t the only one getting drunk, however. Four of his other police buddies flanked him on either side, nursing drinks of his own. Piper’s car was going to reek of alcohol once they were out. 

 

The third shot arrived, and Shiro knew that the effect had been lost when he could no longer feel the burning sensation, or when the room didn’t lose focus for a few minutes. 

 

“Piper. It’s not strong enough.” He huffed at her, and was grateful for the way her face morphed into one of determination, determined to get him good and drunk.

 

A new shot was placed in front of him, and he blinked twice to focus on it. It was clearer than the one before, and as soon as he choked it down, he coughed, the burning sensation back and enveloping his mouth and throat.

 

Oh, yeah. That was vodka. 

 

Shiro looked over as his vodka was being refilled. To his immediate right, Perry sat, nursing a whiskey and looking at old pictures of his girlfriend. A little bit down the line, Matthew was talking to his sister, a glass of scotch almost empty in his grasp.

 

To his left, Piper sat, having nothing but a coke within her fingertips. Even that, he had noticed, she was careful about drinking, making sure that it wasn’t drugged or anything of the sort. It was barely sipped, and he figured that she wasn’t really in the mood.

 

A bit farther than Piper, one of the other officers, Holt, seemed to have already secured his partner for the night, a gorgeous brunette with intelligent gray eyes. 

 

Those eyes made him remember piercing blue ones, of his own wife’s, and he wondered how she would react to him coming home drunk. Well, there was only one way to find out, right?

 

Four, five, six, seven. By the eight shot, Shiro was teetering between the fine edge of being drunk and being super drunk.

 

Of course, he didn’t stop there. If he had stopped there, then he wouldn’t have been making the stupid decisions he was making with his eight, ninth, and tenth shot.

 

By his eleventh shot, Shiro largely suspected that the bartender was giving him sprite instead of alcohol, but by this time, he was so far gone that he couldn’t have told the difference if someone asked him.

 

Piper had abandoned all pretenses of being the designated driver and was drinking without care, promising that they’d all take a taxi back home. She sipped at whatever drink she was drinking, and the flush in her cheeks indicated that she was well on her way to joining the state of drunkenness Shiro and the others currently occupied. 

 

“No wedding?” Shiro slurred, managing to raise an eyebrow at the woman on the seat next to him.

 

“No husband.” Came the reply.

 

“Boyfriend?”

  
“Interested?” She asked, her lips quirking up in a pouty smile that he decided, yes, yes, he was.

 

Their lips had met in a drunken fusion for a make-out session before he pulled away.

 

“No—my wife—“ He stuttered. Why was he even thinking about her? He’d done worse, and it wasn’t like he was going for most faithful husband for Allura. Something about this felt wrong, felt off, and it was like the countless other women he had slept with.

 

“You don’t even like her.” Piper mumbled as she leaned in for another kiss, but this time he was firm.

 

“Even with that, this wouldn’t be right. I’m your boss.” 

 

That seemed to deter her, but luckily, there were no hard feelings. The night continued with drinks and jokes that were in no way funny, but prompted ridiculous laughter. 

 

He wasn’t really sure how he made it, but suddenly his door to his apartment was staring right back at him. 

 

With a sense of hesitation, he knocked.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Review and Kudos are welcome and appreciated!
> 
> Find me on tumblr: @chai-and-coffee


	6. The First Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the first warning ;)

The door swung open, and had Shiro been leaning on it for a fraction of a second more, he would have fell flat on his face. Luckily, he had pulled away before that could have happened, and all he managed was a little stumble. 

 

He righted himself, his eyes meeting wide-eyed blue ones. Allura stood before him, stricken, and he wondered internally if she had never seen anyone drunk before. “Hey, honey. I’m home.” He slurred, and even in his drunk state, it appeared as though he was mocking her. 

 

“You’re drunk.” Came the quiet voice, and Allura reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose as if to ward off a rising headache. He supposed that he was headache material, especially by the way he stumbled forward and collided with her.

 

He pushed her gently aside, and directed his attentions to his bedroom. He needed to get some sleep, because he could feel the way his head was going to hurt in the morning, and itw wasn’t something that he was looking forward to. 

 

He made it to his bed and curled up under the covers, sighing quietly as the blankets settled over his tired body and his head had snuggled into the pillow. A dip in the other side of the mattress alerted him to a presence, and he pulled his head up to look blearily at his wife. She appeared to be extending something to him, and he blindly threw his hand up and felt around until his hand curved around hers, which appeared to be holding a glass.

 

“Drink the water. I have some aspirin, take those too. It’ll help with your headache in the morning.” She said. He obediently did as she asked, choking the white pills with the water. He handed the glass back to her and buried his face back into the pillow. 

 

When he didn’t feel the extra weight leave, he pulled his head back up to look at her.Well, not exactly look at her, because his eyes were having a hard time focusing. Damn his alcohol. Someone needed to make sure that he never drank again, because this was something that he definitely didn’t want to go through every time he drank. 

 

“Takashi…I…I understand that you might not like me, and that this wasn’t your choice and I’m sorry for that. Except—there’s something bothering me, and—well—it’s not making me feel safe.” She confided quietly in him.

 

He groaned and buried his face back into the pillow, too tired to deal with anything like this at the moment. “Tell me in the morning.” He insisted.

 

“But—“

 

“I’ll take care of you. Now go, get some sleep.” He instructed, but it was more out of his own desire to get some rest than her own welfare. As he drifted into a slumber, he pondered his words. Why did he say that he would take care of her? He meant that he would take care of it. It, not you..

 

The morning seemed to come too soon for him, and he groaned, feeling the tenderness in his head. It was like someone had smacked his skull with a cricket bat repeatedly, and the sun was only making it worse. He tossed his arm over his eyes in the hope that the light would be obstructed, but he knew that he would have to get up soon, or he’d be late for work. He cursed at the sun, muttering some unkind words as he made his way into the bathroom.

 

He splashed his face with water repeatedly, trying to wake him up and out of the drunken stupor. As he mopped his face with a towel, his eyes fixed on a little bottle of perfume, and he knew that if he spritzed it, the room would eventually smell like strawberries. It was little things that he noticed, the addition of a toothbrush, another towel, shampoo—and he found himself realizing that he didn’t mind it at all.

 

He rushed through his shower, not wanting to be late, but took enough time to ensure that he was alert and fresh for the job. As he finished dressing in his uniform, he opened his door and jumped slightly when he saw her lingering right outside. 

 

“What?” He asked gruffly, his voice getting even deeper to conceal the fact that he, a seasoned police officer, definitely didn’t jump at his wife standing outside his door. It wasn’t the fact that she was outside his door, it was the fact that she was _outside his door_. By this time any other day, he would have seen her curled up in her usual position at the corner of the couch, staring at something that only she could see.

 

It was just the fact that she was right in front of him, wringing her hands nervously, and her eyes expectant.

 

“What we discussed last night..” She trailed off uncertainly as she looked into his eyes, seeing the confusion that lay there. “You don’t remember.” She mumbled, her gaze turning to the floor.

 

Damn it. He’d lost her eye contact, and he fumbled quickly to get it back. “You might have to just clear my memory, I remember everything, even if I drink.” He rushed to say, but he had lost it. She didn’t look at him again.

 

“I don’t feel…safe. I don’t feel like something’s right..” She fumbled with her words.

 

Shiro snorted, shaking his head. “Are you sure that it’s not just a feeling? Maybe get some air, do something other than sitting on the couch. I’m sure the feeling will go away. It’s just there because you’re being stationary and not being productive.” He breezed past her, heading to the kitchen to grab everything that he needed. 

 

She followed him. “I know I sound stupid, but—I can’t help but feel it—“ She stammered.

 

“You don’t need to make things up to get my attention. Stop being a drama queen, really.” He said harshly, spinning around to address her, before turning back and walking out the door. 

 

The image of his wife’s face crumpling into one of complete fear was burned in his memory and plagued him throughout the ride to work. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THINGS ARE FINALLY SET IN MOTION! WHOOHOO! Stick around, this is only the beginning. 
> 
> comment and leave a kudos, catch me on tumblr @chai-and-coffee


	7. Observations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro and Allura spend a day together

Despite his harsh words, Shiro kept a close eye on Allura. 

 

He didn’t believe her at first.

 

The day after she had confessed to him how she felt (while he was sober), he had the day off, which gave him the perfect opportunity to interact with her and figure out what was going on. 

 

She didn’t talk to him. He felt guilty to even start conversation. 

 

The house was silent, and he wondered how she didn’t go mad with no presence of noise in the house whatsoever.

 

He did note, however, that she had taken his words to heart, and refused to sit down. She was constantly moving, back and forth, and the actions made him so nervous that he regretted giving her that suggestion. 

 

She was…odd, to say the least. She paced back and forth, scenting the house with her strawberry perfume. She avoided the window the led out into the balcony like it was the plague, giving it a wide berth as she walked around. She seemed to walk with her eyes closed, her head ducked, and she muttered something in a fearful whisper, punctuating each one of her actions. 

 

Who was this woman? Shiro would liked to have said that he did something productive with his life, but that would be a flat-out lie. He spent the first half of the morning before realizing that the only thing that he was doing was watching her walk around and wring her hands nervously. At this rate, she was going to tire herself out, and he couldn’t have that.

 

He didn’t care about her, of course. But he needed something better to do rather than watching her mope around the floor of his apartment. He hightailed it into the kitchen, getting to work. 

 

Now, Shiro wasn’t exactly the best chef, but he could whip up some pretty basic things. Which is how he could make some scrambled eggs and toast. Not his best meal, but honestly? He wasn’t too picky. He didn’t quite know about Allura, but it would have to do.

 

Allura, Allura, Allura. Her name in his thoughts drew his gaze from the steaming plate of food to his wife, who appeared not to have noticed that his position changed from the couch to the kitchen.

 

Shiro made his way over to where she was pacing around, and strained his ears to hear what she was mumbling, but her voice was so faint that he couldn’t make it out. 

 

He reached out to touch her shoulder hesitantly, and his eyes widened when she was startled, a soft whimper escaping her mouth as she jumped back. 

 

In hindsight, he could have figured out a better approach, seeing how this was the only physical contact she had had since he had grabbed her wrist and yanked her out of the chapel.

 

“Hey—it’s just me. Food’s ready. Sit down.” He said, his voice softer than he had ever heard it. He didn’t like it. He cleared his throat, heading back to the kitchen, grabbing the two plates and walking back. 

 

He handed her own plate, and when he was sure she could hold it, he occupied the other end of the couch with his own.

 

God, he couldn’t take the silence. With anyone else, maybe, with anyone else, the silence would have been comfortable. He would have been okay with it, he had to have been. Shiro thrived on silence. 

 

But with Allura, it was unbearable. It was a somber silence, weighing down on his shoulders and dragging him down to the depths of the darkest places he no longer wanted to explore. He found himself reaching for the remote that lay abandoned within the crevices of his couch. When his hand wrapped around the plastic, he sighed a quiet sigh of relief, and looked at her. Her hands were shaking. Not the slight tremble, but the kind of shaking where it was hard to even look at.

 

God, what happened to her? Was this deterioration happening when he was gone? Was this happening because of him? 

 

“Here.” He grumbled, switching the channel to a news channel (it was better to keep something neutral, he didn’t want to induce a war of what to watch and what not to watch).

 

He scooted closer to her, brusquely taking the silverware from her clutches. He adjusted the grip, before gently taking her hand and wrapping her hand around the fork. “Better?” He asked, his hand steadying hers, and was answered with a silent, jerky nod.

 

“The five year olds I work with have better coordination than you.” He meant it to be a joke, but it came out all wrong, gruff, low and mocking, and within seconds she had yanked her hand away.

 

Why did he do this? He was damn sure he wasn’t a jerk—but when it came to her, he was the epitome of an asshole. He hated this. God, he needed to keep his mouth shut around her. He didn’t quite move back to his original position quite yet, as she was still trembling in a manner that worried him.

 

His eyes flitted to her out of the corner of his eyes, and saw her eyes wide and transfixed by what was happening on the screen. He was about to make another remark against his better judgement, but the words dissolved in his mouth when he saw the same fear she mirrored in her eyes once more. 

 

What was happening? He turned back to the screen, and the news lady was reporting a series of disappearances happening in their neighborhood. Oh, so she was scared about that as well. 

 

Maybe he would get a chance to rectify his comment from before. “Don’t worry. We’re working on it.” He said, turning to her. His voice was the same smooth baritone from before, but this time he didn’t correct it. 

 

Her horrified expression swung around to bore into his face, and his heart twisted in anguish as he viewed the agony she was experiencing. What the hell was going on? Maybe—he should take her seriously.

 

“Be careful.” She said, her hand curling around the fabric of his sleeve, before letting go.

 

The only thing he could do was watch as she retreated back into her shell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed!
> 
> And as always, catch me on tumblr @chai-and-coffee


	8. Cases, Cases

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bit gory?  
> Shiro investigates the disappearances.

“Hey, boss. What we lookin’ at here?” Piper asked, snapping gloves on as she came up from behind Shiro. The police officers were all around a crime scene, swarming around like ants at a picnic. They were investigating the latest disappearance.“Uh…not sure yet. Do me a favor, keep the press away, hm? I can’t believe that after all this time, people still don’t understand that the yellow tape is there for a reason.” Shiro grumbled, the press and the media always getting on his nerves. The man pushed open the front door, the wood creaking slightly on the hinges, and looked around. There were CSI officers and police officers in every corner of the house.

 

Shiro was investigating the latest in the recent disappearances. Their current victim was a young woman, in her 20’s, known for her modeling career. She had settled down for a quiet life, and well…judging by the fact that Shiro was in her home, that hadn’t gone over so well.

 

The woman had seemed to disappear, and this matched the characteristics of all the other widespread occurrences happening around the neighborhood. But despite everyone’s careful canvassing of the crime scenes, they turned up with nothing. 

 

This made talking to the media incredibly frustrating, seeing how the press couldn’t quite handle the fact that law enforcement had no leads on what the hell was happening. Hell, the didn’t even know where the hell the body went, or if there even was a body. They knew nothing about the murderer (or was he a kidnapper? Or was he a she?) or what the hell was going on.

 

God, between this frustrating case and the increasingly erratic behavior of his wife, Shiro was going to go mad. He had spend some ‘quality time’ if if could even be called that, with Allura. Quality time entailed both of them sitting down on the couch and watching whatever was on TV together, and Shiro’s hand gently tapping her shoulder to jolt her out of whatever corner of the mind she had escaped to.

 

He had gotten her a little diary, a little book. Leather bound, pink, but not the pink to hurt one’s eyes, the kind of pink that was soft and reminded him of her.

 

“What’s this for?” She had asked, her fingers tracing up and down the soft spine of the book presented to her.

 

“For you. You can draw, write whatever you want. It might help you express your feelings in a better way.” He had said, expecting her to lash out at him for getting her the gift.

 

But to his surprise, she had smiled and ducked her head.“Thank you.” She had said, and scampered off to begin writing with the pens he had gotten her as well. 

 

She had written in it the entire time that he was sitting with her, furiously scribbling. She wrote so much, her head buried within the folds of the pages, that he would have to gently take her hands and wash off the inkstains littering her palms.

 

He had allowed her to sleep in the same bed, provided that she stayed on her side of the bed. He didn’t really mind it, and he knew that the couch became incredibly uncomfortably. Her clothes joined his in the closet, and her cool touch soothed him during the worst of his nightmares.

 

They still didn’t like each other, but it had just delved into an easy roommate-ship of sorts between them. He didn’t mind it, and by the looks of it, she was very happy to scribble in her diary and curl up on a real bed. 

 

Of course, the only problem with her now was getting her to stop writing. He wanted to peek in, see what she was writing, but by the time she was sound asleep and the thought had come to him, the little pink book was cleverly hidden away from his prying eyes. He didn’t mind it, after all, he had gifted it to her and he shouldn’t be infringing on her privacy. But still, the thought lingered, and curiosity piqued at him as to what she was writing. 

 

Back to the situation at hand. His wife was something else, but he could focus his attentions on her when he got home, and right now, the case demanded his attention.

 

Shiro walked past the groups of officers huddled around, and he inwardly hoped that he could get a clue, something to give to this girl’s family. Something to explain why she was missing, or how they knew about it.

 

Anything. Anything to provide some semblance of comfort to the family. His shoes stepped quietly on the carpeted steps, and he felt a bit uncomfortable. Almost as if he was treading in a place where he wasn’t invited.

 

He made his way up to the second story, which was quite small, in all honesty. Aside from a little bedroom, a bathroom, and a shelf decorated with books of all shapes and sizes, there was little to nothing that caught the eye. Of course, there were officers who were already scoping out every single rivulet in the walls for some kind of clue. 

 

He sighed and walked down the steps once more. On the fifth step from the base of the landing, he heard a little sound. He stepped back up and shifted his weight onto the particular step once more. Again, the sound…almost if it was…

 

Hollow. 

 

“Guys!” He alerted a few officers, and within moments, the carpet was stripped, the panel was yanked upwards.

 

His stomach rolled violently. 

 

Guess the heavens answered his silent plea for a clue. Well, they had given him the entire damn body. 

 

The girl’s flesh was rubbery, almost preserved, and her eyes were closed, almost as if she was sleeping. The dried brown of blood staining her chest was the only indication that something violent had happened to her.

 

God. How was he going to explain this?


	9. The Second Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drinking + The Second Warning

He came home, drunk, once more. He didn’t meant, but he and the others had agreed that the sight of the flesh, rotting, splayed over the stairs needed a drink to wash that image away. Shiro hadn’t objected when he was tugged along, and he had drank until he no longer remembered his last name, just to forget. And he succeeded. All thoughts about the girl disappeared from his thoughts.

 

He tapped on the door, but wasn’t as drunk as before. He was still sentient, was still able to think ahead and realize that his wife was NOT going to be happy about this, but he could explain it to her, he would be able to make her understand as to why he was this way.

 

It had been less than fifteen minutes since he had left the bar, and already he could feel himself craving another one. Another drink would set the demons in his mind at ease, and he would be able to sleep. Just another drink, and everything would be okay. 

 

The door swung open, and his eyes met the concerned expression of his wife. She opened her mouth to say something, but was silenced by the raising of his hand in a ‘stop’ gesture to indicate that he wanted to speak first. 

 

“I’ve had a very, very long day.” He said, and he didn’t even take measures to contain the growl that seeped into the bars of his voice. She nodded, and whatever thing that she had been gearing up to say, she clamped it down. She stepped aside and led him inside the house. He was grateful for the fact that she didn’t even try to reach out to touch him or anything of the sort, he didn’t think that he could handle contact with anyone, especially her. 

 

She watched him with curious eyes as he hoisted himself up onto the counter and stuck his hand in the cabinet, grasping and reaching around until his hands clamped around the bottle of whiskey he kept for emergencies.

 

Yeah. This constituted as an emergency. He pulled out the glass that he never used anymore, because who visited him anymore? He poured the amber liquid, watching it settle, and glanced up to find Allura’s gaze on his.“You want one?” He asked, his voice gravelly as he raised the glass to his lips, taking a long sip. 

 

She shook her head, but looked like there was still something she wanted to say.“Shiro…actually, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” She said, and he swore that it was the longest sentence he had ever heard her ever say to him.

 

“Shoot.” He said simply, draining his glass and refilling it, leaning casually against the counter. He looked at her with appraising eyes, eyebrow cocked and at the ready.

 

“I know—you dismissed me before, but—“

 

He cut her off. “Is this about the stupid feelings that you’ve been feeling lately?” He huffed, and it was clear by the tone he used with her that he felt quite contrary about her so called premonitions. In all honesty, he had fully convinced himself that it was a ploy to get his attention and sympathy, to not divorce her once this was all blown over. It wasn’t going to work on him.

 

“Shiro, please. I’m—I’m just so scared—“Allura said, and he didn’t like the way that her voice dropped into a pleading tone. The rational side of him pinged with sympathy, but the drunken man in him lashed out at her. “Scared of what, huh? You won’t tell me anything, so how am I supposed to protect you?”

 

That had unleashed the tears, and while the normal him might have been deterred by the sight of her crying, the drunk side of him didn’t care. He interpreted it as another act, another ruse to get him to be soft and kind and forgiving towards her.

 

“I can’t. I can’t tell you.” She mumbled forlornly, her head dipping. “But please, Shiro. Something is really—really wrong. I’m—I’m not safe. You—you have to help me.” She begged, the tears increased in rate. He wondered how she could see with the flow of liquid gushing down her eyes, the way her body seemed to shake. She had progressed from simple crying to full blown sobbing.

 

“Shut up, Allura. I’m not so blind as to believe you and trust you. You will be out of here in a few weeks, and that is all that I am looking towards. You will be gone, and with you, I’ll get my damn last name and my ring back.” He spat at her, his mind fueled in a rage that he knew was a mistake to direct it towards her.

 

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get some sleep. Some of us actually have to work.” He snorted at her, aiming another jibe at the fact that she did little to nothing for the household. He brushed past her, leaving her tear-stained, stricken face by the kitchen counter. He set his empty glass in the sink, put the bottle back in its original position, and stumbled his way to his bedroom. He internally wondered if she was going to sleep in the same bed as him tonight. Ah, he’ll apologize for his words in the morning, blame it on the drunken stupor. She knew how he was.

 

His question was answered by the presence of a familiar weight occupying the opposing end of the mattress. He looked over and saw that her back was to him, and quickly turned over himself, lest he be caught of looking at her.

 

The mattress shook slightly, shuddering as she cried quietly. He could have done countless things, reached across and gathered her in his arms, whispering his apologies and promises to keep her safe, he could have whispered a simple ‘I’m sorry’ to her or anything. 

 

Instead he chose to lay there, drifting off to sleep with her cries echoing in his ears. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHAH, and so it begins. Welcome to 88 minutes. 
> 
> You know the drill! Leave a comment, kudos!
> 
> Catch me on tumblr: @chai-and-coffee


	10. gone, gone, gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ooh, buddy!

“Allura—“ Shiro groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I definitely understand if you’re upset at me, I was an asshole. I understand, okay? But please, for the love of everything that’s holy, can you please, please, please, draw the curtain?” The sun seemed to be making his hangover worse, and he wanted to scream at the piercing sensation. Like someone was drilling a hole into his skull with no anesthesia whatsoever.

 

He got no answer, and that made him turn around, wincing at the smallest of movements, and look over at the other side of the bed. Her side had been neatly made, and it indicated that it had been a while since she had gotten up. Okay, so she wasn’t in bed. His groveling would have to be in person. That was okay, he could handle that. After all, he was pretty damn sure that he had been a jerk to her yesterday night.

 

But she could understand that he was drunk, right? He could tell her about the case and apologize profusely for his words and his actions. He groaned as he rubbed his eyes, and slid out of bed, barely stumbling out of his room. He was still rubbing his eyes, pausing in the doorway that connected his room to the living room. She would be sitting on her usual position on the couch, so he could just tell her here and now.

 

“Allura, I’m sorry for yesterday night. I didn’t mean any of it, I promise. And I know that it’s no excuse, but work was tiring and we ran into difficulties, and—well, I’m sorry. I know that there’s no excuse for the way I treated you. Forgive me? Please?” He asked, using the soft tone he had come to recognize as the tone he used only with her. 

 

He continued rubbing his eyes for a good minute, waiting for the response that never came. He pulled his hands away from his eyes and blinked to clear his vision, the living room swimming into view. She wasn’t there. She wasn’t on the couch, or shuffling around, or anything of the sort. Crossing the room in powerful strides, Shiro checked the kitchen quickly. Nope, not there.

 

He was on the rise of panic when his eyes caught sight of the closed bathroom door. He heaved a sigh of relief. She was here. No need for an overreaction. No need. He made his way to the bathroom door, and although he was well aware his behavior could come off as creepy, he needed to right a wrong that he had committed. 

 

“Allura?” He tapped gently on the door and didn’t wait for a response. “Allura, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for yesterday night.” He continued, saying the same things as he had said before. Again, he waited for a minute, before impatience seized him. He tapped on the door once more. “Allura?” He called out.

 

No answer. It was then that he realized, in the wake of his hangover, he hadn’t realized that the light of the bathroom wasn’t on. He placed his hand on the doorknob, twisting it, and was filled with horror as the door sprang open at the will of his hand. There was no one here. He stepped into the bathroom, as if it would give some clue about her disappearance.

 

“Allura?” He called out once more, but like the other failed attempts before, there was no answer. Wait. Something…something was wrong. His gaze swept across the vanity.

 

There…there was no pink toothbrush sitting next to his. He yanked open the drawer, and the endless hair ties that had littered the wood were gone. All gone. There wasn’t a brush, and a yank of the shower curtain revealed that her shampoo and conditioner were gone. The entire bathroom was stripped clean of her presence. Well, in the corner of the bathroom, Shiro’s eyes caught on a peculiar little bottle. A pink bottle. He scooped it up, cradling it within his calloused palms as if it was the most precious thing he had ever handled. 

 

He pulled off the cap and gently spritzed the perfume into the bathroom. Almost immediately, the scent of strawberries swirled around him, enveloping him in the fruity scent associated with his wife. He set the bottle down, before backing out of the bathroom.

 

His observations were not limited to the bathroom, to his dismay. Every trace of her was gone. He opened the closet, hoping that this was all a very bad dream, but the solitary wedding dress hanging on her side of the closet only confirmed his suspicions. Every single bit of her, scrubbed clean from his apartment, besides the perfume and the dress. 

 

But…he didn’t feel as though she had left him. She left for something else. Something, possibly about the danger she had been talking about, which he had so cruelly shot down. Not their marriage, if one could even call it that. If she had, she would have left behind her ring, or something along those lines. He didn’t even know why he cared, considering the fact that he had been looking forward to their impeding divorce. 

 

He didn’t blame her. He had been an asshole, treating her as if she was lesser than him, lesser than human, and the thought made him feel ill. God, he had mistreated her, so much.

 

What he hadn’t expected it, was how much it hurt. How much it hurt to be suffocated by the silence that she once sat with him in. How much it hurt to sink down into the couch, staring at the spot she occupied.

 

As he rubbed his hand, coincidentally with the wedding ring, across his head, back and forth, back and forth, he became fixated on a thought. There was something larger at play here. He was going to figure it out. He was going to protect her, the one thing she had ever asked him to do, the one thing in which he had rejected her. He was going to figure things out. He’d get her back, apologize, after the danger was gone.

 

The metal of his wedding band felt cool against his forehead. 

 

_Where are you, Allura?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell me what you thought of this chapter! leave a kudos if you enjoyed! And as always, catch me on tumblr @chai-and-coffee!


	11. Missing Person

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro reflects and reports!

He gave her 48 hours. 48 hours of a grace period before he would report her as a missing person. He didn’t quite know whether she was running from him or someone, or there was something else at play. 48 hours. 

 

Those two days were the hardest two days he had ever experienced in his life, and that was a statement. The first day, he couldn’t sit still. He paced back and forth, tried to keep himself busy, and found himself emulating the same kind of behavior that she had exhibited when she was with him.

 

The second day was harder. He had turned to drink, and had completely finished off his alcohol cabinet. Completely. The scores and scores of booze he had hidden away were completely gone. It didn’t work like before. It didn’t silence his mind, it didn’t take away the thoughts of her, it didn’t do anything for him, and he largely suspected that he had built up a tolerance to drink.

 

He laid on the bed, his eyes casted upwards to the ceiling. An abandoned empty bottle of vodka decorated the floor right under where his legs jutted out from the mattress. Shiro’s hands gently felt the soft fabric of his wife’s wedding dress.

 

He regretted everything. If he had…if he had taken the time to get to know her, taken the time to be more civil to her, things would have been better. Instead, he had done the opposite. Tears sprung to his eyes as he thought about the missed opportunities he had. He could have done so much, but he chose not to.

 

Her wedding dress faintly smelled like her. And yes, he knew that his behavior could be considered as worrying or something of the sort, but frankly he didn’t care. He was hurting for her. He was worried. 

 

Maybe because he missed her. Maybe because he missed the little dimple that appeared at the corner of her cheek when she flashed him her rare smiles. Maybe because he missed the way only his touch was the one to soothe her from her trembling, or the way she kept him company. 

 

God, she had kept him company. She had stayed with him, calmed him down from night terrors, sat with him. Why couldn’t he have understood that her silence and her oddness was because of something else? Why couldn’t he have been more patient, more understanding? God, what was wrong with him?

 

He turned and buried his face in the dress, feeling the moisture press into the fabric. He hadn’t realized that he had been crying, but then again, he hadn’t realized how much Allura had had an impact on him. 

 

Has an impact. Has. 

 

The feeling of the lace ruffle against his skin, the soft scent of his wife making the tension located in his shoulders seep out, little by little.

 

God, even when she wasn’t there, she still had a soothing effect on him. He wished he told her, told her that he was wrong, that they could be friends if they didn’t want to work out their marriage.

 

He wasn’t sure he loved her. He wasn’t sure if he liked her. But when one was as lonely as him, when someone else took the time to sit quietly with him—that meant a lot. But for the sake of his ego, his stupid, stupid, masculine ego, he had let the one best ray of possible sunshine slip through his fingers.

 

“Please, Shiro. Something is seriously wrong. I’m not safe. You have to help me.” Allura’s voice swam hauntingly in his ears. The note of pleading, the soft strain of stress he heard in the lower bars of her light voice. He should have known. He should have been sober for her. He should have realized, even if he was drunk that she was truly scared, that she was truly worried.

 

It was his duty, as her husband, to keep her safe.

 

He failed.

 

“Don’t worry, Allura. Sit down, tell me what you’re feeling. I’ll take care of it, I promise.” Is what he should have said.

 

Too little, too late. She was gone, and he couldn’t just sit around and mope about it.

 

His hands reached out, grasping for the rectangular piece of technology. Once his fingers had closed around the phone, he pulled it to him, wincing as the light from his screen burned his alcohol sore eyes. 

 

He managed to press his finger and unlock the phone. He felt like an old man as he navigated his way through the apps configured cozily on the screen. His fingers tapped a few more icons, scrolled down to a specific number he never had to call, and tapped it. Immediately, the ringing tone enveloped the quiet room.

 

It was complete agony, waiting for someone to pick up. But someone eventually did. 

 

“District Police, Piper Beckman speaking.” 

 

“Piper?”

 

“Shiro?”  


 

“Yeah, it’s me. Listen.” He paused, his eyes focusing on the wedding dress beside him. “I’m here to report a missing person.”

 

“Who?”

 

“My wife.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yell at me in the comments, leave a kudos! 
> 
> catch me on tumblr: @chai-and-coffee


	12. disappearing act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what about those relative hoes

“Go home, Shiro. You look tired. We’ll find her. But you aren’t much use to the search if you can’t keep your eyes open.” Matthew’s voice was soft in Shiro’s ear, and the soothing tones was what finally convinced Shiro to nod and begin the journey back home to his apartment. His sad, lonely apartment, devoid of his wife’s peculiar care and affection.

 

It had been three days since he had called to report in that his wife was missing, and Shiro’s condition had deteriorated since then. He hadn’t slept in those three days, and his anguish had physically manifested itself onto his face, taking the form of dark circles and stubble. 

 

He managed to slide his key into the appropriate hole and pushed the door open. The staleness of the house was stark and met him, like a bucked of water doused on his face. She wasn’t here. She wasn’t back. 

 

He closed the door behind him, and sighed as he tossed his keys to the side. Apparently, the dress and the perfume wasn’t all that she had left. Upon closer inspection of the bathroom drawers, he found something silver, glinting. It was a pendant, a soft silver infinity sign, curled protectively around a small pink and blue stone.

 

Although it really wasn’t his style, he wore it on a black leather cord, tucked under his shirt when he went out. For her. As if a little part of her was with him as well.

 

Despite what others thought, Shiro didn’t even entertain the possibility of losing Allura. That simply wasn’t an option for him. The search for her, however, had garnered a lot of support from the media, who were sympathetic to the image of a husband searching for his wife. Although he appreciated any help he could get, he felt uncomfortable with the attention that was being placed on him, as if he was a desperate man looking for his beloved.

 

Of course, he couldn’t come straight out and tell them how things really were, so he had to keep his mouth shut and suck it up. He offered a few words when people asked him how he was feeling, and by this time, his response was immediate, robotic. Little to no thought was put into it. 

 

It frustrated him to no end. People shouldn’t be paying attention to him! They should be looking for Allura. That was their main priority, no matter what anyone said to him. 

 

He sighed and pulled his necklace out from under his shirt. He had to admit that wearing jewelry of any kind had always been uncomfortable with him, but he felt pretty okay with the constant presence of the small pendant dangling off the end of the cord. 

 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered to the pendant, as if somewhere, its owner would hear and forgive him. 

 

He stumbled off to bed, curling up under the covers. His eyes closed instantly, and sleep finally took its hold. 

 

When he blinked his eyes open, the light slanting in through the windows indicated that it was way past morning, possibly late afternoon. It had been a while since he had slept in like so, but he figured that the lack of sleep for the past three days was the driving factor.

 

He forced himself up off the bed, feeling the hollowness of his missing wife ping in his heart. What could he do? He needed to do something.

 

He had to have a connection to Allura, other than Allura herself. What connected him to her? Their marriage, of course. Their marriage…which was arranged by Alfor.

 

Alfor! There! There was his link. God, why hadn’t he thought about Allura’s father at all? How did the precint never touch upon this? The first thing one did when someone went missing was contact their relatives, which meant that by law, Alfor should have been contact. Was Allura possibly hiding out with her father?

 

He dreamed it up, then. She’d be living with her father, staying safe, and he’d find her, protect her, apologize and bring her back home, and this entire thing could rest and they could be back to normal. 

 

Of course, that was wishful thinking. He didn’t really have much time for that, considering the the fact that every second that ticked on the clock, his wife slipped farther and farther away from him. He couldn’t have that. Shiro practically dove to his phone, tapping frantically. Where—where—where—aha!

 

With triumphant fingers, Shiro tapped on Alfor’s contact, and just as quickly, he called him. Ringing tone, ringing tone. Please, pick up. Please, please, please…

 

Apparently the fates were most definitely not on his side. 

 

“The person you have tried to call is no longer at this number.” A cool female voice sounded in his right ear, too soft and automated to be a real person. He sighed and ended the call, thinking. Maybe he changed his number or something. The precinct would have called him! He could get the number from there. Within moments, he dialed the office number, his call being picked up immediately. 

 

“Shiro?” 

 

“Hey! Matthew! Can you do me a favor and give me Allura’s father’s number?” Shiro asked, his left hand curled into a fist as he waited anxiously.

 

“Yeah, man. Give me a sec.” The only sounds that were heard was the clacking of keys as Matt searched the database.

 

“Er, Shiro? It says that Allura’s an orphan. She doesn’t have any known relatives.” Matt said.

 

Shiro thought for a second. Maybe Alfor was an adoptive parent of sorts, or even just a family friend. “That’s okay. Can you search the system for Alfor Altea?” He asked, flopping down onto the couch.

 

Again, the keyboard sounds rang in his ear, and he sighed internally. He hated waiting. How long did it take? Just as he was about to ask if Matt found anything, the other officer spoke.

 

“Shiro, there’s no record of a person named Alfor Altea ever existing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments give me life (and motivation to write the next chapter ;) )  
> Leave a kudos if you enjoyed!  
> and as always, catch me on tumblr @chai-and-coffee


	13. the bulletin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the bulletin + an unexpected arrival

Well, shit. This was…stupid. And incredibly cliche. But what the hell, he needed it. It gave him something to do. And yes, he took the time to precisely cut and measure out the photographs, he went to the store and got some pushpins (the lady at the counter had stared at him for a while), and yes, he had measured out the different yarn colors to fit the lengths that he had.

 

Yes, he had made a bulletin. His wife’s face stared at him from the center of the board, a wide, beautiful smile displayed. It was from her, all the threads were coming from.

 

Red string meant suspects. Blue string meant family. Green indicated places. Yellow was for clues, black indicated time, and pink was for things concerning Allura.

 

Well, everything concerned Allura. The pink string was to get to know his wife better.

 

So far, he had set up a few things around her beaming face. Sure, he had originally thought against having a reminder of his missing wife staring right back at him when he tried to work, but it was good motivation for him to keep working when things were bleak. 

 

So far, he had a green, black, and blue string stretching out to one corner of the board. They joined a little piece of paper which had the date and time, as well as location on it. It was their wedding, the first day he had met Allura, and the last day he had seen Alfor. 

 

Then, below that, the date and time as to when Alfor had asked him of the favor. 

 

Below that, the comments that Allura had made, when she had made them, and how she had made them.

 

How, was an incredibly important part of his investigation. He needed to know that the variances in her tone, in her wording, everything. After all, those words haunted his nights and rang in his ears every single second of the day. It was branded, a part of him, and trained him towards the solace of alcohol. 

 

Oh, alcohol. Allura would be disappointed in him. Alcohol made things bearable for him, made the pain abate, just a little bit. Alcohol left him quietly pleading to Allura’s wedding dress for her to come back, that he was sorry. Alcohol also left him with a bitter taste in his mouth every time he thought of the different things he could have done to treat her better. 

 

Back to the bulletin. Each and every incident was listed on the board, but it wasn’t enough. He barely knew anything about her, who she was, where she came from, or anything. Any contacts that were once listed on her file at the police station seemed to be bare, and the few familiar relations that were listed didn’t exist or were dead. 

 

Everywhere he turned, he was met with a dead end. There was no way out. He sighed and pressed his fingers to his temple, massaging the last bit of a hangover. He had taken two weeks leave from the police station, yet everyone knew that he was investigating on his own. His colleagues at the station gave him hints as to how the search was coming along, but Shiro knew very well that they were at as much as a loss as he was.

 

No, he wouldn’t give up. This was…simply…just a little obstacle. He’d figure something out. 

 

“I miss you.” He whispered to the pendant, where he knew the small little infinity sign rested against his chest, wrapped up in the black cord. It was safe where it was right now. 

 

He made his way to the kitchen, walking all the way across the tile to the back cabinet, his hands automatically reaching up. He reached, all the way back, yet his fingers didn’t close around the familiar glass of a bottle. 

 

Were there no bottles? He swept his hand across again, repeating the action, as if a bottle would magically materialize and he’d find his drink of the evening. No such luck, and he cursed his wishful thinking. He sighed, and pulled his hand out of the cabinet, groaning. This meant that he would actually have to go out and get his booze.

 

He walked to the bathroom, and took a shower. Hot, as if should melt away his worries and his plights. No such luck. He pulled on a dark shirt and jeans, not bothering with the fact that his hair was still wet. He ran his hand around his chin, and decided that the light stubble that ran across was fine enough for him to go out. He’d shave, of course, but later. Right now, he needed something to quiet his wife’s voice in his mind, and that would only come in the form of a stiff drink.

 

He pulled on his sweatshirt, yanking his hood up, and tugging on the strings to cover his face. He grabbed his wallet, walking out of his apartment and locking the door behind him. The walk to the drugstore was fairly quick, and the only sounds were the rushing of cars next to him and the loud sounds of his thoughts. 

 

He jammed his hands into the pockets of the hoodie, his back hunching as his strides became longer. Get in, get out. That’s it. He’d hand his card to the woman sitting at the counter, grab his bottles, then walk out.

 

He made his way into the drugstore, walked directly to the booze. Five bottles. Two scotch, two whiskey, one vodka. Cheap drugstore brands that he didn’t buy for the taste, but for the alcohol. He payed for the drinks, telling the lady to keep the change of the bills he threw down the counter.

 

The walk back was shorter and he made it to his apartment soon enough. He had barely put down the bottles on the counter when a knock sounded at the door. Who could be there at this hour? 

 

“Who’s there?” He called out suspiciously.

 

“Are you Takashi Shirogane?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Married to Allura Shirogane?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“We’re her friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments inspire me to write! leave a kudos if you enjoyed!
> 
> and as always, catch me on tumblr: @chai-and-coffee


	14. the trio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the trio + a request

He didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, his hand grasping the doorknob and practically yanked the door open, so rough that the door shook on its hinges. Standing there were three hooded figures, dimly lit by the hallway lamp. But it wasn’t the dark, hooded figures that one should have been cautious of. 

 

No, these were kids, wearing different colored hoodies (one blue, one green, one yellow). Pairs of eyes peeking from beyond the depths of the hood, the green one small, blue one tall, and yellow one curvy. 

 

Before Shiro could yell at them for giving him false hope or anything of the sort, the three invited themselves in. The yellow one pulled his hood back, revealing a thick crop of black hair tied back with a bandana, making a beeline for the kitchen. 

 

The blue one lingered around, right behind the green one, who sank down onto the couch and typed furiously. 

 

“What-“ He barely got the first word out before he was collectively shushed.

 

“Close the door.” Came the order from the blue one, who gave a small nudge to the green one, who amped up her typing speed.

 

Shiro closed the door, his eyes on the girl who seemed to be hunched over her laptop. A good five minutes passed before the girl spoke up.“All bugs are down. We’re free to talk.” She said, pushing back her hood. 

 

Blue followed her lead, pushing back his hood as well, a wide grin coming about on the tall boy’s face. “Hey, there. I’m Lance. That’s Pidge, and that’s Hunk.” He gestured to the green one and the yellow one respectively. 

 

“Shiro. Tell me about my wife.” He introduced himself quickly before crossing his arms and fixating on the three that now sat before him.

 

The blue one—Lance—opened his mouth like he was going to oblige Shiro, but the green one—Pidge—piped up before he could.

 

“Absolutely not. We are the ones who are searching for her, we will tell you what you need to know when we feel as though we can trust you. And you are far from that, so don’t think your closed off scary military man thing is working. I know all about you, Takashi Shirogane, including the way that you let our best friend slip out of your fingers because of your drunken abuse. Don’t you dare try to pretend like you’re a saint with us.” Pidge snarked back, and it was glaringly obvious that the girl would definitely not stand up for any of his shit.

 

Thankfully, coming to Shiro’s rescue, Hunk piped up. “What Pidge means is…well, we have to take our precautions. We don’t know really who you are, or what you might know, and in the best interests of all of us and well, in order to get Allura back, we need to keep somethings down until we can trust you.” He soothed, and Shiro felt grateful for the yellow one for softening the green one’s words.

 

“Yeah, what the big guy and the gremlin said.” Lance added on at the end.

 

Shiro sighed and pressed his hands to his head. “Okay. So what are you three doing here?” He asked, tilting his head. The trio shared a look, as if silently arguing between themselves as to what they were going to say and who was going to say it. 

 

Eventually, it was decided that Hunk would speak for the group, seeing how Pidge still glared at Shiro with a sort of vengeance that made the older man fear for his life, and Lance was already half asleep on the couch.

 

“We’re searching for Allura. It’s been a year since we last saw her, properly saw her, but we started searching for her when we saw the news of her on TV. We’re trying to remember things that she might have told us when she was with us, and we’re trying to trace her through things that she left us.” Hunk supplied eagerly.

 

Shiro leaned forward, as if starved for information about his wife, this stranger that these friends seemed to know well. “Tell me about her.”

 

“You don’t know about your own wife?” Came the incredulous question from Lance, who opened his eyes to gaze at Shiro. 

 

“I don’t. I didn’t know about her, at all. I got married to her…and was less than kind to her. I didn’t know her before our marriage, didn’t make an effort to get to know her during the marriage. Tell me about her, please.” The words felt like lead in his mouth, tinged with the flavor of shame and heaviness. God, he was so ashamed, he hadn’t even treated her right when she was with him. That was no excuse, but he could dwell on that at a later time.

 

Apparently the sight of Shiro leaning forward, eyes brightening and eager spurred on the three to talk. 

 

“She’s very nice, only has a dad. I don’t know what happened to her mom.”

 

“She’s very secretive.”

 

“She likes mice!”

 

“We’re trying to follow a trail of clues down to her, and we need your help!” that statement had come from Hunk, and both Lance and Pidge stared at the chubby boy in complete and utter betrayal.

 

“Hunk!” Came the sounds of disapproval from the other two. 

 

Shiro was already stadning up and gesturing to his back wall.

 

“No—no—wait. I’m doing the same thing. I’m trying to find her, but I don’t have that many clues.”He gestured to his bulletin, and everyone trained their eyes towards the collection of colored stings and photos.

 

Pidge sighed, adjusting her glasses.

 

“Before we share our clues, we need—“

 

“—someone to vouch for you. Someone that’s neutral, but who can tell us that you’re not lying about any of this.” Lance finished.

 

Shiro sighed internally, and felt a little bit bad for this kids. How much had they gone through to be so distrustful?

 

“I know just the person. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments inspire me to update! 
> 
> leave a kudos if you liked!
> 
> and as always, catch me on tumblr @chai-and-coffee


	15. expressway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> vouching + hope

“It’s late at night. Are you sure you want to be doing this right now? Won’t your contact or whatever be sleeping?” The fire of questions came from Lance, who was looking around at the apartment complex that seemed way too familiar to him…but he couldn’t quite place it, possibly because of the darkness.

 

“No, he never sleeps. Well, he sleeps, but not here.” Shiro said, causing the three trailing behind him to exchange confused looks. 

 

Shiro led the trio up a long flight of stairs, despite Hunk’s quiet requests to use the elevators that were “…there for a reason, guys!”Eventually, though, they made it up to the seventh floor. This apartment complex wasn’t entirely the best. The stairs were rickety, the paint was peeling off the walls, and it smelled like turnips. 

 

“Who are we meeting?” Pidge demanded to know as Shiro came to a stop right in front of the door at the end of the hallway. When Shiro didn’t answer, her expression became more pinched and she watched with narrow eyes as Shiro raised his hand and knocked on the door.

 

“This place is way familiar.” Lance muttered to Hunk, who patted his back as if soothing a child that was scared about something. 

 

The door swung open a few minutes later, and a young man, who looked in likeness to Shiro, having the same guarded expression and crossed arms, stood at the entrance. Steady gray eyes stared at the group.

 

“Hey, Keith.” Shiro said. “This is my brother.”

 

Lance stepped up to the doorframe, waggling his finger. “You’re telling me that my longterm booty call is your brother?!” He asked, stepping his way to Keith’s side.

 

“Boyfriend. I’m his boyfriend.” Keith supplied steadily before anyone could question Lance’s words.

 

Shiro blinked. “I most definitely did not know that, but yeah. We’re brothers, you two are dating.”

 

Pidge stepped forward, pushing up her glasses in a way that reminded Shiro of those scary smart kids. “Look, Keith, or whatever your name is. Are you able to vouch for Shiro? That he’s a good person and—“

 

The young woman was cut off by Keith, wrapping his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders. “Yeah, yeah. Shiro’s the outstanding citizen of the year that got married and didn’t even tell his brother.”

 

“I knew you would be mad about that.” Shiro huffed, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “Well, the thing is, as much as I would love to tell you about my failed marriage, my wife is missing. She’s…gone. And well, she was speaking about something that was scaring her, that she wasn’t safe before she left.”Shiro helpfully provided information, watching the way Keith’s eyes widened.

 

Lance, Pidge, and Hunk didn’t look surprised. “She was muttering that….which means…”

 

“We should get back to the apartment. We need to share clues.” Hunk spoke up, giving Keith a small wave, and a nod to Shiro. 

 

“Right. Let me just grab my keys.” Keith said, reaching somewhere off to his left to grab said keys. 

 

“You’re coming with us?” This came from Pidge, cocking her eyebrow as she looked at the taller boy with suspicion. 

 

“Yep. Shiro can vouch for me and all that stupid stuff. Plus, I want to know how this fool got married to someone without telling me.” Came the steady answer, and soon the group, now extended to five people, was off once more. 

 

They didn’t talk the entire way back to Shiro’s apartment. Not even Lance, which was unnerving. But the blue hooded kid wasn’t as tense as any of the others. Then again, it might have been due to the fact that his boyfriend kept a secure hold on his hand. 

 

Once the door had been closed behind the five, they regrouped onto the couch. Shiro took the lone seat, Hunk and Pidge sitting close by, and Keith and Lance stretched out next to them. 

 

“Okay. I’ve shared what little I know about the situation, and the police officers working on the case know even less, I can assure you. But I think we all agree that it’s time for you three to reveal what you know.” Shiro was the first to speak up, and the steady glare he gave everyone let them know that this was non-negotiable. 

 

“We don’t know much about her. We were friends, sure, but she knew more about us than we knew about her.” Lance was the first one to talk, curled into Keith, who gently stroked his hair back to soothe him.

 

“How do you three know her?” Shiro asked, tilting his head.

 

“That’s…for another time.” Judging by the answer, Shiro was able to see that it was a touchy topic and neither of the trio wanted to divulge that information.

 

“I do know that she had a rocky relationship with her dad. There was someone else that she was close to, like a paternal figure or something, but I don’t remember much about him. I don’t really remember ever seeing him.” Hunk said, wiggling back onto the couch. 

 

Pidge tapped a finger against her lips thoughtfully. “She used to her very optimistic. Very sweet, to the point that it would make your teeth hurt. She was a good person. I knew her for a while, before she disappeared for a year. But as time progressed, something switched. She kept getting sadder and sadder, slowly towards the end of her stay.” 

 

“She had her faults, that was for sure, but I can’t help but think that there’s something bigger going on.” Lance said.

 

“Something bigger was going on. I know that for sure, considering she approached me thrice with the same fears.” Shiro swallowed the same that rose in his throat as bile, and didn’t meet any eyes. 

 

“She played tennis at the country club…I know she’s been to Europe, especially London.” Pidge said, her eyes now closed as she thought about her friend. 

 

“Guys.” Hunk began. “Guys. Remember the cabin? The cabin?” 

 

Pidge and Lance turned towards him, their eyes widening in hope.

 

“What cabin?” Keith asked, tilting his head.

 

Lance was the one who answered. “Allura had this cabin. It was her favorite place to go, she used to go there all the time, whether it was with her family or a boyfriend. The last time she went was with a boyfriend, and well, if Shiro wasn’t treating her that well, she might have gone down there to heal.”

 

Shiro sprang to his feet. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell me what you thought! Comments inspire updates!
> 
> Catch me on tumblr: @chai-and-coffee


	16. cabin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cabins

“Woah, there, buddy. We actually need to know where this cabin is first.” Pidge was the one who made Shiro sit back down.

 

Keith peered over the top of Lance’s head. Unlike Shiro, who had jumped up at the immediate opportunity to get his wife back, the younger brother wasn’t inclined to leave his boyfriend. “You’re telling me that you literally found the place that she might be hiding, but you don’t know where it is?” 

 

“And, it’s a cabin, which makes it even harder to find.” Hunk piped in ever-so-helpfully,but simmered down when Pidge whipped around and shot him a glare.

 

“Well, it’s been a year. We kinda need to jog our memory to remember. Plus, no one’s actually been to the cabin.” Pidge said as she took a notebook out of her backpack and began ripping it up.

 

“Which means that our search for this cabin just got exponentially harder.” Keith grumbled, but was silenced by Lance pressing a finger to his lips. Had it been anyone else, Keith would have probably bit their finger off, but since it was his boyfriend, he begrudgingly allowed the silencing move by pressing a soft kiss to the fingertip that was pressed to his lips. 

 

“Pidge, what are you doing?” Shiro asked. The girl was shredding pieces of paper into neat, slivers. On each sliver, she wrote different words, describing a landscape. 

 

“If Lance, Hunk, and I pool our memory together, we can figure out a rough estimate of where the cabin is.” Pidge said, and looked at the two boys flanking her.

 

“You’re right.” Lance said, and looked like he was going to lean up, but found that his boyfriend’s arm restrained him. “Keith! You mullet! Let me go, I need to see what Pidge wrote.” Lance protested, and Keith let go.

 

Shiro snickered at that one. “He calls you mullet. You’re a mop of hair.” He teased his brother, and his grin only got wider as Keith glared back at him.

 

Pidge, Hunk, and Lance were sorting the slivers of paper into different piles. “There’s sand there.” Hunk mumbled.

 

“And the ocean.” 

 

Soon enough, the three had isolated clumps of the paper into one pile. “Okay, guys. So we know that it’s a sandy place, pretty beachy and on the side of the ocean. Beachy, but on the east coast.” Hunk said, putting down the slivers of paper which contained the words ‘beach’, ‘sand’, ‘sun’ and others along the same variety.

 

“So we just isolated the entire West Coast and the middle of the US. Great.” Keith piped in sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he tugged Lance back into his arms. 

 

“Yeah, but we have more. There’s only a few places that Allura would like to go to, and considering that we all went to college in Maryland, it has to be somewhere there.” Lance said, wiggling a little to get comfortable on Lance’s chest. It was clear the the couple was comfortable with their relationship, but they were also the source of Pidge’s eye rolling.

 

“Yeah. She used to leave one night and be back by the next morning, so we’re looking at the range of Maryland, Virginia and DC.” 

 

“Not DC. There is no way in hell there’s a beach there.” Lance ruled out, shaking his head. 

 

The three pondered, and Shiro leaned back into his seat. “Okay, let’s say it’s Virginia. Humor me for a second, because firstly, that’s super close by to here. And, isn’t there a beach in Virginia?” He asked, tilting his head.

 

Pidge pulled out her phone and tapped a few things on the screen.“No way… there is!” She said, her eyes lighting up. Hunk swiped the phone from her, and easily navigated through the images.“Guys.. wait.” He showed the other three something on the phone. The image seemed to garner good responses, seeing how their faces lit up.

 

“What? What is it?” Shiro asked anxiously, tilting his head as he craned his neck to see the screen to no avail.

 

“One of the pictures she used to show us of the places matches the scenery of Virginia Beach. We have confirmation, people. That’s where the cabin is, though farther away from the tourist aspect of it.” Lance informed, and stretched. 

 

Shiro raised an eyebrow at Pidge, who laughed. “Yes, Shiro. That means you can get up and we can go now. We’re going to find her!” She said happily. The group dispersed, grabbing their things. 

 

Was there enough room in Shiro’s modest car? Not really. It involved a crammed Pidge in the middle, Hunk in the front because he was Shiro’s favorite, and Lance and Keith holding hands across a very upset gremlin. 

 

But luckily for the group, Shiro was a fast driver. The originally three hour trip turned into a hour and a half, and before long they were stretching themselves out of the car. 

 

“Okay, let’s park here and walk up the rest of the way. We’re away from the commercialization, but we have to follow the beach side. There aren’t many cabins here, more like condos and shit like that.” Pidge said, but was interrupted by a strong, “Language.” from Shiro. 

 

They began the walk up the more isolated parts of the beach area, passing groups of people who actually lived here. Occasionally, Lance would ask them about a cabin nearby, and all would point farther up the beach. 

 

They walked, the sand soft and a mild temperature against their skin. The waves crashed on their right side.

 

Before long, however, a small brown form was found in the distance.

 

“Could that be—?” Hunk asked, tilting his head as if it was a mirage and would go away. 

 

“I think it is…” Keith said uncertainly, his head tilting. 

 

They all looked at one another as if to check that this was real, that the brown figure in the distance could be their sought-after cabin. 

 

And in unison, they broke into grins and began to run. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments mean updates!
> 
> drop a kudos if you enjoyed!
> 
> and as always: catch me on tumblr: @chai-and-coffee


	17. discussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> discussions

“Wait, wait, wait, guys.” Shiro was the one who cautioned them as they reached the door. “We need to be careful. What if she was running from something? We don’t want her to run from us. Just…slow down.” He cautioned, and to his surprise, the other four reduced their speed. They fell back behind him, letting him take the lead. He gently tried the knob of the cabin door, and was surprised to find it unlocked. Shiro gently twisted the knob and pushed the door open. Luckily for them, the door opened without a single noise. 

 

“Are we…sneaking up on her?” Lance asked, tilting his head as he tried to modulate his voice into a whisper.

 

“Yeah, pretty much.” Hunk was the one who answered, and who was also at the far back, trembling slightly from being so scared. 

 

Shiro took a deep breath and pushed on, walking into the house.

 

A loud creak startled them all, and their heads snapped to Pidge, who threw her hands up and shook her head. It wasn’t her. 

 

Someone else was here.

 

“Hello?” Keith called out, maintaining a steady grip on Lance’s hand, narrowing his eyes at his boyfriend, practically daring him to try and do anything reckless.

 

“Oh, quiznak.” Was heard from the room, and the five filtered through the small cabin. That voice…it wasn’t the soft, airy voice of Allura. It was uncharacteristically rough, and…masculine.

 

Disappointment crashed in Shiro’s chest, and he tampered it down. Until he got full confirmation that Allura wasn’t here, he’d have to keep his hopes up. Damn it. Being optimistic was her thing, not his. 

 

A shriek sounded, and it was unmistakably Pidge’s and was coming from the kitchen. Shiro rushed from where he was lingering in the living room and into the kitchen, worried about the young girl that was technically under his care. 

 

Luckily, there wasn’t anything major to be worried about. Pidge stood in the kitchen, pointing a finger to a tall, lanky man who had…an orange mustache, and was also holding a knife.

 

Shiro gently swept Pidge behind him, the other three boys coming up to have his back.“Put down the knife. Where’s Allura? Where is she?” He asked. He tried to keep his voice diplomatic, but by the second plea for his missing wife, his voice had grown increasingly desperate and pleading.

 

“Allura? You’re looking for her?” The man asked, confusion filling his features. 

 

“I think I know him…” Lance muttered to Keith, who shook his head and tried to keep Lance at bay. But then again, his boyfriend was stubborn, and it was no surprise that Lance immediately moved forward (tugging a grumpy Keith behind him) and stepped into the man’s line of vision.

 

“You’re…her uncle, aren’t you? I’ve seen you around when…you picked her up from college.” He supplied.

 

The man’s eyes cleared and he nodded. “I remember you. Lance, with boyfriend Keith. Katie, Hunk.” He nodded at each of them.

 

“Katie?” Shiro leaned over to Hunk, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Pidge. Katie’s her real name, but we like to call her Pidge.” Hunk answered.

 

Apparently, Shiro’s motion had drawn the man’s attention to him, and he tilted his head. “I don’t recognize you from her college, though.” 

 

“I um..” Shiro fidgeted nervously, before answering. “I’m not from her college. I’m her husband.” 

 

It took the other man a moment, but he worked it out. “Alfor.” He cursed, and that single name restored Shiro’s faith in his mind. He hadn’t made it up, he wasn’t going insane. He was okay. 

 

“I’m Coran. I’m Allura’s uncle, and I’m searching for her.” He said, and set the knife down and offered the group a sheepish grin. “I had no idea how I was going to use that knife if it turned out that you weren’t friendlies.”

 

“We’re searching for her as well. You’re her uncle? You should have some information about her whereabouts.” Hunk said.

 

Coran’s expression darkened, and he shook his head. “I haven’t had contact with her for a few months now. The last I saw her, she was scared, said that her father was calling in a favor.” Coran’s gaze turned and swiveled, piercing Shiro squarely.

 

“And, that favor would be me.” Shiro nodded. For some reason, he felt odd, as if Coran knew. He couldn’t explain it.

 

“Right. I assume that Alfor was trying to keep her safe as well, but those intentions eventually led to his untimely death, only a few weeks later after she got married.” Coran said, massaging his temples.

 

“He died? Right after trying to keep Allura safe? Seems a bit coincidental, don’t you think?” Pidge asked, a dubious eyebrow encroaching upwards.

 

“Too coincidental.” Coran agreed. “But then again, there was no one to see, no one to protest against it. They ruled it as a natural death, but I think we all know that it was the opposite.” 

 

“So…why is she running? Do you know where she is, or could be? What the hell is going on?” Shiro asked. The situation was starting to leave him a bit anxious, caged. She wasn’t here. They needed to stop loitering in the kitchen and figure out where she was fast. He just…he wanted this to be over. 

 

On second thought, if he sold his story to HBO, he could make a killing.

 

But right now, he just really wanted his wife back.

 

“Oh, dear. You don’t really know anything, do you?” Coran asked, tilting his head. The man studied them, the room falling silent for a heartbeat as the five withered under his searching gaze.

 

When the silence got too long and a bit constraining, Coran spoke up again.“There’s no use in keeping you five in the dark. Something tells me that you’re going to find her whether I give you information or not. Might as well make the best out of it.” He said, and pointed to the small living room.

 

“Let’s go. We have a lot to discuss.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments make me update more!
> 
> leave a kudos if you liked!
> 
> catch me on tumblr: @chai-and-coffee


	18. revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what the hell is going on?

They all sank down onto the couch adorning the living room. Of course, there wasn’t space for all of them, so Lance happily claimed Keith’s lap, Pidge dangled on one armrest, Shiro the other, and Hunk sat next to the couple happily. 

 

Coran occupied the seat, looking at them evenly. For a moment, no one spoke. But the orange-mustached man broke the silence and with a long sigh.

 

“I won’t go into the details of Allura. She’s a secretive girl, and that’s her choice to tell her about herself. I won’t tell you about how I became involved in this family, or anything of the sort. I think we can all agree that there’s no time for expository context, and that can always be given at a later time.” Coran said.

 

“Yet, we’re wasting time with this disclaimer.” Keith huffed, which earned him a glare from everyone, and a groan from Lance at his boyfriend’s less than becoming manners. 

 

“That being said, I’ll begin to what this started with. As you all know, Allura was…is, gorgeous. She knew it, and her personality is even better. She drew eyes everywhere she went, but was very picky with her lovelife. Her father was the same, he wanted the best for his daughter. Someone who would treat her well, treat her like the equal she was always supposed to be.” Coran said. 

 

“She never thought about dating, she was always too focused on her career. ‘Later, later.’She used to tell me. Sure, when she reached college, she was ready explore, to mingle. She dated a few, but found that in some way, they weren’t compatible. Her breakups were always mutual and no hard feelings ever lingered.” 

 

“She became involved with this one boy. Lotor, his name was. At first, I was enthused. I had met the young man many times before, and had been floored by the way he had appeared to be perfect for my Allura. Kind, charming. Good manners, well dressed. Treated her like a queen. It was clear that she thought the same way as well.”

 

“Then, as time progressed, I realized that something was off.” Coran said, his gaze sliding up to the ceiling. The other five were quiet. 

 

“She was getting tired. He had encouraged her to work, but also to manage their shared apartment. The relationship soured as he began to grow a bit too controlling for her taste. He would demand to know where she was, and threatened to cut her off from her friends and family.” 

 

“They were actually supposed to get married. Alfor, Allura’s father, had no idea about how Lotor was treating his daughter, and by mistake, had granted Lotor his blessing to marry Allura. Lotor was planning to propose. Allura had no idea.”

 

“I remember this. I remember her and Lotor. She looked really bad, a few months in. But I thought they broke up?” Pidge interjected. Lance and Hunk nodded, their lips pursed in memory, while Keith and Shiro shared glances and shrugged at one another. 

 

“They did.” Coran agreed. “Allura was always strong, and she knew when someone was starting to be a bit too toxic. She broke up with him, and this one wasn’t as neat and tidy like any of her other breakups. No, this one was messy. He begged, pleaded for her to keep him, but her abject refusal of him made him upset. On top of that, he had imagined his entire life with her. Her rejecting him made that impossible.”

 

“This guy’s a real charmer.” Keith said dryly, shaking his head. 

 

“Suffice it to say, she returned to her original pattern. Things were getting better. They were, for a short while. But on our nightly calls, Allura spoke of feeling something off. She told me that she didn’t feel that safe.” Coran continued. “I assumed that it was because of the fact that she was still living in the same apartment that she had shared with Lotor. I suggested that she move out and move into my home.”

 

“To my surprise, she agreed. But she still complained about something, about feeling that something was off—“

 

“—That she wasn’t safe…” Shiro interjected. Coran looked up at him in surprise, and nodded. 

 

“Correct, Shiro. That she wasn’t safe. She didn’t like to go out as much anymore, feeling shaken and terrified. I grew worried and took her to a therapist, but that only made her more frantic.” Coran said, pressing the pads of his fingers against his eyelids. The older man looked destroyed, slumped over and pale as he thought about the occurrences. 

 

“She would run into my room, late at night, sobbing and clearly distraught. She would say that she heard someone outside her room, that he had found her, that she heard a click.”

 

“It didn’t take me long to realize that it was Lotor that was behind it. He was stalking the woman that had jilted him, that had ruined his dreams, and in a way, ruined the woman he supposedly loved. I couldn’t confront him, as I wasn’t sure if that would enflame the situation. I tried to get a restraining order, something, but because there was no evidence, I couldn’t. The days passed and she retreated into a shell, into a corner of her mind to protect herself from the relative unsafety of the world around her.”

 

“I watched as my niece, once darling and bubbly, was reduced to a husk of a woman, scared of going out. I reached out to Alfor, who was stationed overseas, and he was troubled, but he said that he’d find a way out for her.”

 

“Your marriage,” Coran’s eyes met Shiro’s. “was not to make you unhappy in any way. It was to keep her safe, and her disappearance means that he found her, and she knew that she couldn’t stay with you any longer if she wanted you to live.”

 

Shiro bent over, taking steady breaths. Wrong, wrong, wrong. He had been wrong about Allura since the beginning. And here, she was faced with a psycho stalker, alone, terrified, and dear god…

 

“He found her again.” Hunk said.

 

“So she’s running.” Pidge sighed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments mean updates!
> 
> leave a kudos if you enjoyed!
> 
> catch me on tumblr: @chai-and-coffee


	19. click!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> meet the photographer!

“Okay, so where’s Lotor?” Lance asked as if this would solve all their problems, and Coran hadn’t just spent thirty minutes talking about Lotor as a psychologically manipulative asshole. 

 

Luckily for Lance, Coran didn’t seem to mind the question. “That’s actually the reason why I made my way down here. I knew that Allura wouldn’t be in this cabin, it was too obvious a choice, (at this, Pidge huffed and turned red with embarrassment), but Lotor’s apartment is only a few minutes away from here. I wanted to rest a little bit before scoping out the spawn of evil’s home.” He said.

 

“Lotor has a home? If he’s chasing after Allura so much, I wouldn’t have expected him to have a stable home.” Keith pointed out. 

 

Coran seemed pleased and nodded. “You’re right, Keith. Lotor’s most definitely not the model for a good apartment renter, but he does need a place to stay in case he needs to lie low for a while. I’m not really expecting to catch Lotor there, but more to observe what he wants. His apartment should give us some clues.” He said, and the five grinned.

 

“Cool. This is like…Law and Order, Criminal Intent.” Hunk clapped his hands.

 

“Please, Hunk. You’re always scared to watch that show with me. You say that it gives you stress ulcers.” Pidge rolled her eyes, standing up from her perch on the armrest.

 

“But it does! It’s scary! But I like when they have to think like the criminal to find out what the hell is happening.” Hunk shrugged. 

 

Shiro, who had been quiet up to this point, stood and cracked his back. “Okay, team. We need to go, and go quickly. I don’t want Lotor to know that we’re on his tail, and I most definitely don’t want to lose time searching for Allura. She might be in his apartment, you never know. We need to move out.” He said, his tone sharp and to the point. 

 

“Sure, Dad.” Pidge snarked as she moved past him to the door. The group of five, now having another addition, yet again, was expanded to six. They walked the entire way down the beach, back to the spot where they had parked their car. Again, Lance and Keith had to double up, and Shiro was painfully aware that he was breaking laws by cramming six people into a five-seater car. 

 

Oh well, he would have to deal with the fact that he was a police officer and was breaking multiple laws later. Right now, he wanted his wife to be safe and sound, and the actual police investigation wasn’t doing much to make that happen. 

 

He found it ironic how he had to take it into his hands, but then also found it amusing how the entire precinct had known this was going to happen and hadn’t even questioned when he applied for a long ass break.

 

Enough of that. Time to see the hell apartment. Shiro parked close enough to the apartment complex to make a quick getaway if they had to, but also a bit far as to not attract any unwarranted attention. 

 

“Be quiet.” He hissed at the group that clambered noisily out of his car. They immediately fell silent, realizing that they had arrived. “Coran. What apartment?” He asked the man out of the corner of his mouth. 

 

“Second floor. Apartment 25.” Coran answered, following Shiro as the officer moved forward, heading to the side set of stairs that the apartment owners could used. Their steps were quick and light, but the loud set of wood paneling wasn’t doing them any favors. 

 

They landed on the second floor, and quietly crept through the carpeted floor to the last apartment, which was conveniently 25. Pidge was the one who pushed through the boys and stepped up to the plate, Hunk by her side. Hunk handed the girl a few things, and it was clear that they had done this thing before. Within five minutes, the door swung open. The group of six warily entered the room together, closing and locking the door behind them.

 

“Hello?” Lance called out, and when there was no answer he turned and faced the glares. “Hey, no one’s here. It worked.” He said with an impish smile that made Keith groan.

 

Hunk seemed fixated on the room before them. “Hey guys, remember when we said that we would be able to find clues about his psychopathic tendencies? Well…”

 

There was no furniture in the apartment. Nothing, except for a computer and a printer that still hummed from recent use. 

 

All around them, taped to every single surface, was a picture of Allura. Allura dancing, late at night, in the comfort of her college dorm. Allura giggling with a date. Allura walking down the street, coffee in hand. 

 

There was Allura when she was sleeping, the dark circles prominent under her eyes. There was Allura, in Coran’s house, trying to sleep. 

 

There was Allura, pale and ghost-like, sitting next to Shiro. 

 

Allura was in each and every corner of the house. Some of the pictures were taken when she knew he was taking pictures, because she smiled boldly back at the camera. Some of the pictures were taken when she didn’t know, like the picture of her disrobing before a bath. 

 

The pictures made Shiro feel sick. She had been right. She hadn’t been safe. How could she have been, when there was someone taking pictures of her, every single second. To look at the pictures made it feel like a gross invasion of Allura’s privacy.

 

“Fucking hell.” Keith muttered, and Shiro was too stricken to even correct him for his use of a n expletive. 

 

“Anyone else getting sick from this? No? Just me?” Pidge asked.

 

But all of their eyes were fixed on the pictures, as if there was a horrid satisfaction that was compelling them to look.

 

Hunk set his hand on the printer. “It’s warm. He was here a while ago.” He pulled the picture that the printer had just printed, and turned it over.

 

“Guys?” He asked, nervously. The tone made everyone rush to his side.

 

The picture was of them, sitting in the cabin, just a short while ago. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments make me update. ;) after all, there's one more chapter left in this book.
> 
> leave a kudos if you enjoyed
> 
> and come yell at me on tumblr: @chai-and-coffee


	20. napkins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> coffee + napkins

The pictures were getting a bit too much to look at. Shiro could tell by the faces that he received, the visible shuddering, and so much more. This was a hostile environment, and the fact that Lotor knew that they were there didn’t make it so much better. 

 

Shiro really, really, tried to see the hope in things, but right now, things seemed too bleak to even muster up an ounce of optimism.

 

Unsurprisingly, it was Hunk who suggested that they take a break from combing through the photos, and go down to the coffeeshop a couple of blocks away. Surprisingly, everyone unanimously agreed. Lance was looking uncharacteristically pale, leaning heavily onto Keith. But then again, Shiro supposed that no one was taking this too well.

 

They wound up sitting in the coffeehouse, all of them having some kind of hot drink. The complimentary coffee cake that sat at the middle of the table was untouched, and barely anyone took sips from their drinks. They weren’t in the mood to.

 

It was Pidge who broke the uncomfortable silence. “Well, here’s the thing. This wasn’t a total bust. Now we don’t have to sneak around Lotor, because he knows that we’re coming for him. That’s one thing off the list, right? Secondly. we have some more evidence to supply the police. They can maybe do a little more advanced digging, and we have solid proof that Lotor is a stalker. Which means, we can have a tail on him, and we can get that restraining order. Finally, we know he’s close. If we turn the tables on him, maybe he can lead us to Allura.” She supplied.

 

Shiro was grateful for the young girl for her reasoning. Of course, he wasn’t convinced yet, but the tension around the others dissipated. He noticed that Keith loosened his death grip on Lance, Coran sighed a sigh of relief, and Hunk dared to reach across and break a piece of the coffee cake.

 

“You’re right, Pidge.” Keith said, nodding in agreement. “We should…just…keep our heads cleared. Shiro—what did you say to me when I was younger—something about..”

 

“Patience yields focus.” Shiro said quietly. It was obvious that he was too down to take pleasure in Pidge’s observations. 

 

He was worried. The mental image of Allura, lying spread eagle with those blue eyes widened in horror, blood pooling around her was in his mind, for some reason. He couldn’t shake it off. What if she was dead? What if she was alone and terrified and hurting? He should have kept her safe when the opportunity was extended to him. He should have kept her safe then. 

 

“Hey.” Hunk startled Shiro out of his reverie by placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Shiro almost jumped, but managed to keep his nerves rained in. 

 

“It’s okay.” The yellow hooded boy smiled, a small smile, but it was enough to set Shiro at ease. If Hunk could have optimism, then so could he. After all, he was the leader of this rag-tag group, he supposed. He needed to be the example.

 

“Alright, guys. Here’s what I’m thinking.” Shiro began, taking a long sip from his coffee cup. The black liquid scalded his tongue, burning him, but he didn’t quite mind. The bitterness helped him focus. “I’m thinking that Lotor knows that we’re here. So we should find a hotel, a public place, and set up camp. Get some rest. It’s been a long day. Before we do that, we need to go back up to the apartment and grab some evidence. Take pictures of the pictures, take some of the pictures, I don’t care. We do what we have to do. Make it look like we were paying Lotor a visit, found the door unlocked, stepped in and saw the pictures, okay?” He asked, and was pleased with the resulting nods he received. 

 

“We’ll do that right now.” Pidge nodded in affirmation. “Hunk. Let’s go.” She said, and the two stood up and walked out of the coffee shop. 

 

“I need to call a few people. See if I can pull a few strings, find out some things. I’ll be outside.” Coran supplied, patting Shiro on the back as he passed him, pulling out his phone. The lanky man was barely out the door before loudly chatting on his phone.

 

Keith and Lance grinned at Shiro. “We’re just going to be lazy and stay here.” They said, both sipping from the same coffee cup. Of course, Keith pretended to hate the creamer and sugar ladled drink, but took the same amount of sips Lance did, all the same. 

 

It was clear that Lance hadn’t taken the pictures well. There still was a paleness to him, which Shiro empathized with. Seeing your friend there, seeing her privacy being stolen was no easy thing to witness. He was pretty proud of the kid for even managing to smile. Keith’s constant worrying over Lance helped too, and Shiro noted the slight return of color to Lance’s cheeks.

 

“Sounds good to me.” Shiro said, his head diving into his hands. He needed…to think. He closed his eyes, allowing the busy atmosphere and everything bugging him to fade to background noise. He just…needed a clear mind. Usually, if he was home, he would turn to a drink, but because that wasn’t an option now (He can’t get drunk around four college kids and a full grown man), he needed to find another way. 

 

He heard the rustling of something on the table, was that a piece of paper? a napkin? and dismissed it as Keith and Lance doing something. That’s not his concern. He needs to focus. 

 

Patience yields focus. Patience yields focus.

 

Frustration bubbled up in him, white hot. Even his usual mantra was distracting him. Damn it. Why couldn’t he focus?

 

A hand landed on his shoulder, and it was a soft squeeze. Soft, feminine. He glanced up, and met icy blue eyes.

 

The woman was gone before he could blink, and he ended up dismissing it as a simple trick of the light. 

 

But as he glanced down, a napkin tucked under his coffee greeted him.

 

 

_Don’t despair, dear husband_. It read, in the elegant scrawl of his wife. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, 88 Minutes is over!
> 
> I hope you stick around for the next installment: 72 Hours!
> 
> Comments are appreciated!
> 
> Leave a Kudos if you enjoyed!
> 
> Come yell at me on tumblr: @chai-and-coffee


End file.
